


Ask Me Again

by gckinsey



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Drinking Games, First Meetings, Getting Together, Ice Cream, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Never Have I Ever, POV Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Pining, Polyamory, Rejection, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gckinsey/pseuds/gckinsey
Summary: "If you still feel the same way when you’re in your twenties, you can always ask me again.”Fourteen-year-old Yuri unsuccessfully asks Viktor out and ruins his first meeting with Yuuri. Years later, he gets a second chance with both of them.





	1. December 2014

“I want you to take me on a date.” 

Viktor blinked. Pushed a hand through his hair and let it fall back over his wide eyes. Cleared his throat as he struggled for an answer to the last thing he ever thought he’d hear out of Yuri Plisetsky’s mouth.

_A_ _date_.

(Maybe he hadn’t heard right. _Surely_ he hadn’t.)

“You want me to do what?” he finally got his mouth to spit out, just to make sure. 

Yuri crossed his arms and stared him down hard.

“You heard me.” 

(…Okay, so he _had_.)

Viktor slumped against the boards, eyes sweeping over the empty rink behind him before returning to Yuri’s unwavering gaze. Yuri had pulled him aside as they were leaving practice, presumably to ask for advice about next week’s Grand Prix Final. Viktor couldn’t believe what Yuri had asked him instead.  _Holy mother of —_

“Yuri,” he blurted, “what on earth? I can’t go on a date with you — you’re what? Fifteen?” 

Yuri’s chin rose a fraction.

“I will be in less than three months,” he said proudly. 

“Oh my God,” Viktor groaned, “you’re still _fourteen_?” 

“But you thought I was older.” Yuri took a step closer, leaving Viktor feeling oddly trapped against the boards. “That’s good, right?” 

“ _No_.” Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “No, that’s not good. _Nothing_ about this is good.” 

Yuri finally backed down at that, squared shoulders wilting into a slump.

“Jeez,” he said, the tremble in his voice betraying his gruff tone, “if you’re going to reject me, you could at least try not to be a jerk about it.” 

Viktor’s chest seized at the unmistakable hurt on Yuri’s face. His question had seemed so ridiculous, so out of left field, that Viktor hadn’t stopped to consider that he’d asked it in earnest. Now Yuri was standing there staring at him, refusing to look away even as his eyes grew wet, and Viktor had to do _something_ before he completely broke the poor kid’s heart.

If only he weren’t so terrible at this sort of thing.

“Yuri,” he said, making his voice as gentle as possible as he sat down on the bench and patted the space next to him. “Come here… please?" 

Yuri glared at him suspiciously, but dropped down at his side.

A part of Viktor wanted to reach over and give him a hug — he looked like he could use one right about now. The larger part of Viktor knew that would be sending entirely the wrong message. He settled for a brief pat to Yuri’s shoulder.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk about this, okay?” he said. “I promise.” Yuri’s scowl said he didn’t believe a word. Viktor sighed and pressed on anyway. “But… you do understand why I can’t go on a date with you, right? I mean… you’re fourteen and I’m twenty-six.” 

Yuri’s eyes flashed.

“Why is it that I’m always too young?” he snapped. 

“It’s not just that,” Viktor said. “It’s also that I’m too old.” He ignored Yuri’s narrowing eyes and added, “You’re probably not too young to date someone your own age — ” 

“I don’t want to date someone my own age,” Yuri said tightly. “I want to date _you_.” 

And wow, okay, Viktor realized — Yuri must actually _like_ him. 

He knew Yuri had been a fan of his before they’d met. And now, he supposed he was the closest thing Yuri had to a friend. They certainly spent enough time together — training at the same rink under the same coach, grabbing their lunches at the same time to fit their odd schedules, watching practice footage of themselves and their competitors together during their breaks. It wasn’t a stretch to see how that level of proximity could’ve turned Yuri’s admiration into a full blown crush. 

And that’s what made this so hard. Viktor liked Yuri, too — not in the same way Yuri liked him, of course, but in general. It wasn’t often Viktor came across another skater with a thirst for gold to rival his own, and the talent to back it up. So Viktor had taken Yuri under his wing. Started looking out for him, giving him advice, pushing him beyond his limits when he needed it. Invested himself in helping Yuri grow to his full potential. 

And he knew how quickly all that could come crashing down if he said the wrong thing right now.

“Yura, that’s — so sweet of you,” Viktor stammered. “So flattering. I… I appreciate it, I really do.” He winced at how fake the words sounded, how flat they fell from his mouth. At this rate, Yuri was never going to speak to him again. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Viktor continued, “but… it would hurt you so much worse if I said yes. You know that, right?”

It’s a truth that’s all too familiar. Viktor could remember what it was like to be Yuri’s age and utterly smitten with one of his much older rinkmates… more than one of them, actually. But unlike Yuri, he’d never been brave enough to approach any of them. He was grateful for that now — there’s no telling whether those skaters would have done the responsible thing if he had.    

“If I dated you,” Viktor said, “if anyone my age dated you — it would be taking advantage. Even if it was your idea.” He reached for Yuri’s shoulder again, squeezing it this time. “And I care too much about you to do that to you.”

Yuri jerked away from Viktor’s hand.

“Whatever,” he spat. “Your loss, _old man_.” 

_Ouch._

“Hate me for it now, if that makes it easier,” Viktor said, swallowing down his bitterness at the jab about his age — he’d brought it upon himself, after all. “But trust me, you’ll thank me for it later.” 

Yuri stood up abruptly, swinging his bag over his shoulder and muttering something under his breath about Viktor being a condescending asshole, and Jesus, how was this going off the rails again? Viktor hastily caught the strap of Yuri’s bag to stop him while he scrambled for something, anything he could say to make this better. 

He settled on a wry grin and a light, teasing tone — if his fumbled attempt at honesty hadn’t softened the blow, maybe a touch of humor would.

“Hey,” he said, “if you still feel the same way when you’re in your twenties, you can always ask me again.” 

Yuri blinked up at him, lips parted like he wanted to say a million things but couldn’t get a single one of them out. After a few seconds, he broke free of Viktor’s grip on his bag with a vicious shove. The clack of his skate guards against the floor rang loud and hollow in Viktor’s ears as he stalked away.

When he reached the door, Yuri paused just long enough to yell over his shoulder, “I’m going to hold you to that!” 

* * *

Yuri slammed his locker shut with enough force to rattle the walls. Here he was, the Junior Grand Prix Final champion, and somehow his life was more miserable than ever. What the hell had he _done_? 

“Fuck!” 

“Yuri?” Viktor’s voice echoed from the other side of the partition where the showers were, and dammit, could this day get any worse?

Of course Viktor couldn’t leave well enough alone. He poked his head around the tile wall, brows drawn, then crossed the room to stand at Yuri’s side. Wearing nothing but a towel, because clearly Yuri was cursed.

“Are you all right?” Viktor asked. “You just won a gold medal… what on earth could you be so upset about?” 

“None of your business,” Yuri hissed, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor as he shouldered his way past Viktor, then hastily added, “old man.” He’d almost forgotten the little insult he’d been throwing Viktor’s way for the last week. If Viktor was enough of an idiot to turn down someone as fierce, talented, and (frankly) hot as Yuri for being “too young,” then Yuri would gladly remind Viktor of his age for the rest of his days. 

Viktor just sighed and went to his own locker, talking through the details of Yuri’s free skate as he pulled on his clothes. Because _that_ was his way of trying to make Yuri feel better, apparently. He shouldn’t be surprised… Viktor hadn’t known what to say when he’d rejected Yuri, either.

And since then, Viktor had been trying way too hard to act normal, like he thought that was going to keep things from changing between them. Idiot. How could they _possibly_ stay the same after that? No, Yuri had accepted that everything between them was fucked up now. Embraced it, even. It was the only way he would ever get over his stupid crush.

He’d hoped going to the Final and getting the chance to meet his _other_ crush would also help… but now he’s fucked that up, too.

Yuri’s feelings for Yuuri Katsuki were admittedly different than his feelings for Viktor — but that was only because he and Yuuri hadn’t actually met. Yuri was sure that when they did, all the things he’d admired about Yuuri’s skating from afar would explode into things he liked about him as a person, just the way it had happened with Viktor. 

And maybe that’s what _would_ have happened, if Yuri hadn’t just cornered Yuuri in the bathroom and ripped him a new asshole.

That hadn’t been the plan at all. But the plan had started veering off course the moment Yuuri took the ice for his free skate. He’d screwed up jump after jump, plummeting himself securely into last place, all while Yuri had watched helplessly from the sidelines, unable to believe what he was seeing.

He’d known Yuuri was an inconsistent jumper — the main weakness he and Viktor had identified while poring over Yuuri’s competition footage during their breaks at practice — but today had been something else entirely. He’d followed Yuuri into the bathroom after the senior men’s competition wrapped up, intent on finding out just what had happened.

But then he’d heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing, and shit, no, that was ridiculous — it was one thing to lose a competition, but another to go hide in a stall and _cry_ about it —  and before he knew what he was doing, his foot was kicking open the door and his mouth was shouting in Yuuri’s beautiful, still-wet face.

_You’ve got to come back from this_ , was what he meant to say. _I’m going to be skating against you next season, and I want you to challenge me the way I know you can._

“I’m competing in the senior division next year, and we don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket,” was what he said instead.

_What the fuck are you doing? Ask him out!_ his mind screamed, while his traitorous mouth told Yuuri to retire.

He’d beat a hasty retreat to the locker room, but it didn’t matter… whatever chance he’d had of going on a date with Yuuri, or even getting to know him at all, was ruined.

Now his whole life was fucked in every way.

Viktor’s commentary on his free skate turned to nitpicking his every little mistake, and it was all Yuri could do not to strangle him as they left the locker room and walked back down the hall to find Yakov. To make it worse, Yuuri was there when they rounded the corner, looking like someone had just kicked him. Yuri carefully avoided his eye as Yakov took Viktor’s side and started critiquing his performance too.

Then Viktor spotted Yuuri and offered to take a photo with him, and Yuri kind of wanted to set himself on fire. 

He’d never even considered what might happen if the two men he liked met each other. Surely nothing good for him. He knew Yuuri was a fan of Viktor’s — it was obvious from his skating. And he wasn’t stupid… he’d seen the way Viktor looked at Yuuri every time they watched his skating videos. He hadn’t missed the flash of admiration in Yuuri’s eyes right then, either, just before they’d filled with horror. He wouldn’t be surprised if Yuuri and Viktor liked each other just as much as he liked both of them. 

Thankfully, Yuuri was walking away from Viktor without a word… but Viktor was gazing after him like he was desperate for him to come back. Yuri sighed. The damage was done.

Little did he know how much worse things would get. That Yuuri and Viktor would meet again at the banquet later that night, that Viktor would go to Japan at the end of the season to become Yuuri’s coach, that by next year’s Grand Prix Final the two of them would end up engaged. 

Right now, Yuri couldn’t imagine being more fucked. And he had no one but himself to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor angsty kitten. Don't worry, Yuri, it will be okay!
> 
> This was a quick little idea I dashed off in time for Christmas/Viktor's birthday. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! :)


	2. March 2018

“Never have I ever… hmm…” Phichit cocked his head thoughtfully as he stared across the table at Yuuri. Yuuri braced himself for whatever was about to come out of Phichit’s mouth.

Ever since his college days, Phichit had played Never Have I Ever with one objective — to get Yuuri as drunk as possible. Which meant revealing all of Yuuri’s secrets, even if it meant incriminating himself (and getting just as wasted) in the process. Now, almost a decade later, his tactics hadn’t changed a bit. He’d livened up the banquet after Worlds with the game, and Yuuri had to admit he was having fun, even if it was mostly at his own expense.

“…Never have I ever asked Viktor out!” Phichit finished, poking a finger into Yuuri’s chest.

“Ha!” Yuuri crossed his arms, refusing to pick up his drink. “Joke’s on you… I never actually asked him.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Phichit insisted, “he’s your fiancé so you have to drink!” 

Apparently Viktor agreed with Phichit, if the wounded gaze he turned on Yuuri was any indication.

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiiii,” he whined, nuzzling into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yuuri said, giving Viktor a playful nudge. “You didn’t ask me out, either… just kissed me in front of everyone on live television.” 

“But you’re the one who bought our rings,” Viktor said, pulling Yuuri’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against the gold band. “Doesn’t that count?” 

“Yes,” Phichit answered for Yuuri. “Now drink.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes and lifted his glass. 

“Fine.” 

Chris reached over and clinked his glass against Yuuri’s before taking a long swig — which wasn’t surprising at all. Yuuri had long suspected there had been something more than platonic between Viktor and his best friend, even if it had never gone anywhere. 

What _did_ shock him was the sight of Viktor poking Yuri’s arm and teasing, “Come on, Yura — you have to drink, too!” 

Yuuri shook his head. He must not have heard right. When would Yuri have asked Viktor out? Surely Viktor would have said something about it… 

But Yuri’s face was tightening into a horrified grimace, cheeks turning bright red and splotchy as he shoved Viktor’s hand away and spat, “You _asshole!_ ”  

Yuuri nearly choked.

“Ooh!” Chris laughed, leaning toward Yuri with clear interest. “Now this is a story I haven’t heard…” 

“There’s a reason for that,” Yuri hissed through gritted teeth, his glare at Viktor unwavering.

“Oh, come on,” Chris said, “now you have to tell us!” He winked across the table and added, “Right, Yuuri?” 

Yuri turned those sharp green eyes in Yuuri’s direction, and Yuuri forced himself not to flinch, to smile at Yuri instead.

“I have to admit,” he said, “I am pretty curious.” 

“Do you want to tell them the story, or should I?” Viktor giggled, and Yuri cut him off with the slap of his palms against the tabletop.

“There is no story,” he said, voice hard and tight. “I was a stupid kid with a stupid crush. I asked Viktor on a date and he obviously said no. Now can we stop talking about this and get back to the game?” 

He reached for his glass, but before he could take his obligatory sip, Viktor thew the arm that wasn’t occupied with holding Yuuri’s hand around Yuri’s shoulders.

“It was so cute!” he announced to their table and half the surrounding ones. “Yura was only fourteen at the time, but he was completely serious about it.”

“Whoa!” Chris said, lightly punching Yuri’s shoulder. “That must have taken some guts, kiddo.” 

Viktor turned his gaze toward Yuri, clearly too drunk to notice how he was squirming to get away.

“I hope you’re not still upset with me for turning you down,” he murmured. “If you’d been the right age, I probably would have said yes.” 

Something strange and warm bloomed in Yuuri’s chest at the thought of Viktor and Yuri together — and then everything flashed cold as he realized how much he liked that idea. _What is wrong with you?_ he asked himself, gulping from his glass to fend off the rising panic. _You can’t think about Yurio like that!_

But another tiny voice crept up in the back of his mind, reminding him that, actually, he could. Yuri was an adult now. Old enough to drink with them after competitions without having to check over his shoulder for Yakov. Old enough to go on that date with Viktor, if he still wanted to.

Apparently he didn’t, though, judging by the way he wrenched Viktor’s arm from his shoulders and snarled, “Fuck off, old man!” 

Yuuri couldn’t help but notice the way Viktor glanced away from Yuri, blinking back his hurt, and he instinctively pressed a soothing kiss to the back of Viktor’s hand. 

“Okay,” Phichit said, cheerful tone cutting through the tension. “Next round… Chris, it’s your turn.” 

Chris exchanged a knowing grin with Phichit and said, “Never have I ever owned a Yuuri Katsuki poster.” 

Yuuri groaned and buried his face in his hands while Viktor and Phichit chugged from their glasses. 

“Chris,” Phichit said when he was finally done, “you’d better drink too. Don’t think I didn’t see that Instagram post.” 

“Wrong,” Chris smirked. “The last time I checked, a dakimakura is not a poster.” 

Yuuri’s face flooded with heat.

“ _Chris!_ ” 

To Yuuri’s amazement, Viktor was nudging Yuri’s shoulder again, pushing his drink toward him.

“Yurachka,” he slurred, voice full of laughter, “you have to drink for this one, too!” 

Yuri’s glare turned more murderous than ever.

“Goddammit, Viktor,” he growled. “What is _wrong_ with you?” 

The heat in Yuuri’s face exploded into a thousand tiny pinpricks.

“Yurio!” he exclaimed, breaking out in a wide smile. “You have a poster of me?” 

“Yes!” Viktor answered, his own smile threatening to split his face. “He kept it in his locker all through juniors!” He turned toward Yuri and added, “Surely you didn’t think it was a secret?” 

Yuri’s only reply was a noise of rage in the back of his throat.

“Awww,” Yuuri said, reaching over Viktor’s lap to squeeze Yuri’s hand. “That’s so sweet!” He barely even flinched when Yuri (literally) punched his hand away.

“Yura and I used to watch your skating videos together after practice,” Viktor snickered, leaning against Yuuri. “He was such a fan… we both were.”

“You — _what_?” 

Yuuri knew that Viktor had seen videos of his routines, even before the Nishigori triplets had posted the now-infamous video of him skating Viktor’s Stammi Vicino program. It was something Viktor had confessed on another drunken night a few years ago — that he’d first noticed Yuuri when he’d been granted one of Japan’s extra skater slots at the 2013 NHK Trophy, and had kept an eye on Yuuri’s career through the 2014 Grand Prix series when he’d qualified properly. Viktor had said he was a fan of Yuuri’s fluid, musical style even then. But he’d never mentioned that Yuri was, too.

Before Yuuri could string together the words to ask for more details, Chris jumped in.

“Did you ever jerk off to those videos?” 

Yuuri let out a little squeak. He was sure he must be as red as the trim on Viktor’s Olympic team jacket by now. And Viktor’s reply didn’t help.

“Well,” he winked at Chris, “I don’t know about Yura, but I certainly did!” 

“ _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri gasped. That was another detail Viktor had neglected to mention. He slapped his hands over his flaming face and absolutely refused to think about how hot that image was.

“You know,” Viktor added, turning back toward Yuri, “I still can’t believe you asked _me_  on a date… I always thought Yuuri was the one you liked that way.” 

“Hey, maybe that should be the next round,” Chris laughed. “Never have I ever had a crush on Yuuri Katsuki —” 

Yuri slammed his glass down and stood up abruptly. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, and something about his voice sounded strange. “You guys enjoy your game.” 

Yuuri vaguely registered Viktor’s “Wait!” and Chris’ “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” as he watched Yuri walk away. He could barely hear anything over the rush of his heart. If it had beat faster earlier at the idea of Yuri and Viktor together, it was positively reeling at this revelation.  _Yurio had a crush on me_ , Yuuri thought, face growing hotter than ever.

And on the heels of that, another question rose to the surface of his racing mind.

_Does he still?_  

* * *

Yuri flung himself onto the hotel bed and buried his wet face in the pillow. He hadn’t even made it all the way to the elevator before the tears started leaking out of his eyes, and thank fuck none of the other skaters were heading back up this early, because he would rather die than let them see. He’d heard alcohol could loosen your emotions to the point that you cried — and he’d seen it happen to Georgi more than a few times — but he always thought he’d be immune. What a hell of a way to be proven wrong.

He was going to _murder_ Viktor. What had that idiot been thinking, spilling all of Yuri’s deepest secrets? Now that enough years had passed for him to (mostly) put the memory of asking Viktor out behind him, he’d thought he could at least trust Viktor to take that to the grave. For him to drag that up, along with his old feelings for Yuuri on top of it? God. Yuri didn’t know how he was ever going to look Katsudon in the face again.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, though. Viktor had never had any shame. Especially when he was drunk.

Yuri choked back another sob as Viktor’s words circled around his brain.  _If you’d been the right age, I probably would have said yes_ … Seriously, what the hell? And he knew he hadn’t imagined Yuuri’s blush at that, either, which was even more baffling.

He couldn’t get their touches out of his head — the weight of Viktor’s arm and the warmth of Yuuri’s hand. Couldn’t stop seeing Yuuri’s delighted smile and Viktor’s teasing grin. And _damn_ if every one of the old feelings he’d unsuccessfully tried to bury for years wasn’t flooding back up to the surface.

Yuri had gotten over the sting of Viktor’s rejection and the regret of his botched first meeting with Yuuri long ago, but he’d never truly moved on. His unfortunate crushes had lingered after, no matter how hard he’d tried to get rid of them. It was those crushes that had made him so miserable when Yuuri first moved to Saint Petersburg, when he’d been forced to spend every practice watching Yuuri and Viktor kiss and make eyes at each other. A year later, those same feelings (only stronger) had ruined his attempt to date Otabek, and nearly taken down their friendship in the process.

The more his longing for Viktor and Yuuri grew, the deeper Yuri shoved it inside himself, determined not to let it affect anything else in his life.

_Fuck_ them for bringing it all back.

His thoughts were still raging when he heard a soft knock on the door.

“Yurio?” came Yuuri’s tentative voice. “Are you okay?” 

_God, no_ , Yuri thought, hands clenching the edges of his pillow tight. _Anything but this._

“Fine,” he made himself grunt so Yuuri would just go away.

“Um… can we come in?” Yuuri asked. 

Shit, no such luck.

Yuri shuffled out of bed on heavy feet and reluctantly opened the door.

Yuuri and Viktor stood there blinking at him for a second, then suddenly he found himself pressed between them, surrounded by their arms as they squeezed him tight. _What the hell,_ he tried to say, but his mouth wasn’t working properly. He wasn’t sure his brain was, either, because no way was this happening. After everything that had been revealed during the game, caught in an embrace with Viktor and Yuuri was the last place he’d expected to be. He was still torn between wanting to hug them back and wanting to punch them, so he settled for standing there helplessly, arms limp at his sides as they shifted into a more comfortable position.

Apologies and words of comfort tumbled from their lips, overlapping in their haste to reach his ears.

“Oh, Yura,” Viktor sighed into his neck, “I didn’t mean to upset you… I’m so sorry, kitten,” and Yuri nearly jumped at the sensation of Viktor’s lips pressing a kiss into his hair as Yuuri murmured, “We’re really sorry — we shouldn’t have let the game get so out of hand,” against his chest.

Yuri’s heart lurched at the sincerity in their voices.

_Thank you,_ he wanted to say, or maybe even _It’s okay, I forgive you_ — but what came out of his mouth instead was a half-hearted, “Whatever.” 

_Great. Way to go, Plisetsky_.

Yuuri pulled back just enough to trace his thumbs over the sticky tear tracks that were still drying on Yuri’s cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“What do you think?” Yuri huffed.

“Phichit and I have been playing that game for years, and he embarrasses me every single time,” Yuuri said. “But I’ve never come away from a game crying. So please… what is it that’s bothering you so much?” 

“Is it because our friends know you had crushes on me and Yuuri?” Viktor asked. 

“No,” Yuri snapped over his shoulder at Viktor, “it’s because Yuuri knows!” 

He felt both of them freeze. _Shit._ The words had flown out of him before he could stop them. He bit his lip and turned back to look at Yuuri.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “it’s just — it’s bad enough that Viktor knows, but I didn’t ever want you to find out.” 

Yuuri reached forward and took both of his hands.

“Why not?” he asked softly. “After we first met, for a long time I thought you hated me.” He gave Yuri’s palms a light squeeze. “It makes me happy to know you didn’t.” 

Viktor’s arms tightened around Yuri, head dropping down to nuzzle at his shoulder.

“I think it’s sweet that you felt that way,” Viktor said. “I always have. I wouldn’t have said a word if I’d known it would hurt you, but… I want you to know it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Vitya’s right,” Yuuri reassured him, pulling him back into a hug.

Yuri swallowed, closing his eyes against a fresh wave of tears. He didn’t know how to tell them the truth… that his feelings for them had never gone away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... is it possible that Yuuri and Viktor might feel the same way Yuri does? ;)
> 
> One more chapter to go. Let me know how you're liking this story! :)


	3. March 2020

Viktor held up his ice cream cone and tapped it against Yuuri’s in an imitation of a toast.

“Happy retirement!” he beamed. “Cheers!” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but raised his cone too and repeated, “Cheers,” with a fond gaze in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri had officially announced his retirement from competitive figure skating last week after winning gold at Worlds, but the news hadn’t felt real until this moment.  

He’d thought Viktor’s retirement would prepare him for Yuuri’s, but this felt completely different. Since his senior debut, Yuri had never competed at the Grand Prix Final or Worlds without facing Yuuri on the ice. He couldn’t imagine what the next season — or the rest of his career — would be like without his biggest rival.

Yuuri hadn’t mentioned any post-retirement plans, and Yuri hoped like hell that he wouldn’t do anything crazy. Like moving back to Japan and taking Viktor with him. They were going back to Hasetsu next month for their annual off-season visit with Yuuri’s family, and Yuri feared that they would just stay there. They had invited Yuri along this year, though… at least that was something. 

There weren’t many places Viktor and Yuuri didn’t invite Yuri along these days. Yuri couldn’t exactly remember how it had started, but Yuuri and Viktor’s invitations to spend time together had grown more and more frequent over the last year or so. Now Yuri spent every day with them, shared nearly every meal with them, and practically lived at their apartment. 

This new closeness with Viktor and Yuuri certainly hadn’t escaped Yuri’s notice, and had even started to draw attention from their friends. He’d heard Mila teasing Yuuri after practice the other day, “Viktor’s never going to marry you if you two don’t ditch your third wheel, you know.” (That fucking hag.) 

But she'd had a point. Yuri had wondered plenty of times himself how much longer Yuuri and Viktor were going to keep stretching out their engagement. The selfish, irrational part of him hoped he had something to do with it. Deep down, he knew better — that Viktor and Yuuri were happy on their own, that they didn’t need anything more than each other, least of all him. But he let himself believe in the fantasy anyway. He pretended that they felt the same way he did, that their hugs and casual touches meant something deeper, that their outings were dates. Today certainly felt like an ice cream date.

“How does yours taste?” Viktor asked Yuuri, who was swirling his tongue around his sweet treat with a blissful smile. 

“Like all chocolate and no guilt!” Yuuri replied.

While Viktor patted Yuuri’s belly and giggled about how he couldn’t wait to see him “get nice and squishy,” Yuri grimaced down at his tiny cone. Now that he was done growing, he had to be careful about sticking to his training diet, even in the off-season. So while Yuuri and Viktor had splurged on triple scoops, he’d been forced to get the smallest size on the menu…. which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t called a fucking “kids’ cone.” He wasn’t a kid anymore, or even a teenager, and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to the age gap that had kept him from being with Viktor and Yuuri in the first place.

That thought stirred up a memory from years ago, when Yuri had asked Viktor out and Viktor had fumbled all over himself for the right words to let Yuri down easy. He could still see the way Viktor had smiled at him and said, “If you still feel the same way when you’re in your twenties, you can always ask me again.” He hadn’t forgotten Viktor’s words from that humiliating game of Never Have I Ever two years ago, either: “If you’d been the right age, I probably would have said yes.” 

Had Viktor meant all of that? Was Yuri the right age now? 

And Yuuri… had he meant everything he said that night, too? That finding out Yuri had liked him the whole time (even _that_ way) made him happy? Memories of Yuuri flashed through his mind — his determined gaze when he’d challenged Yuri to that dance-off in Sochi, his delighted face when he’d taken his first bite of katsudon pirozhki, all the soft little smiles and words of encouragement that had permeated Yuri’s outer shell of anger over the years. After everything they’d been through together, as rivals and friends, what would Yuuri do if Yuri offered more? 

There was only one way to find out.

He tried to shove that thought far away into the back of his mind, but he couldn’t deny it was true. He’d never know just what all of Yuuri and Viktor’s extra time and attention meant if he didn’t ask.

What did he have to lose, anyway? If they didn’t feel the same way… well, he’d survived rejection once, hadn’t he? He could do it again. And now that they would no longer be training or competing together, it wasn’t like he’d have to see their faces anymore if everything went to hell.

He was just finishing the last bite of his cone, chewing in contemplation, when he jumped at the feeling of Viktor’s shoulder brushing against his.

“Are you okay, Yura?” Viktor asked. “You’re not usually this quiet.” 

And Yuri’s mouth started moving before his brain could catch up.

“Does twenty count as being in your twenties?” 

“What?” Viktor said with a confused little chuckle, while Yuuri answered, “Of course it does — why wouldn’t it?” 

And shit, what was he _doing_ , leading with that? No wonder they looked so confused. He was fucking everything up before he could even get it all the way out — _and_ he was pointing out the age gap that he was so desperate for them to forget. 

“It’s — it’s just that,” Yuri tried to salvage things before they went even further off track, catching Viktor’s gaze, “you said if I felt the same way in my twenties, I should…” He broke off at the sight of Viktor’s furrowed brow. Of fucking _course_ he didn’t remember. Yuri turned away, crossing his arms. “…Never mind.” 

Before Yuri could take another step, he felt Viktor’s hand catch his.

“Yurachka…” 

Yuri swallowed and turned back around to face him. He started a little at the emotions he saw flickering across Viktor’s eyes — and Yuuri’s.

“Is this about that time you asked me on a date?” Viktor asked, while Yuuri stepped closer and took his other hand. 

Yuri’s blood pounded in his ears as he gripped their hands. Could it be — was it possible — ? Their gazes were so full of raw, unfiltered hope that he dared to believe they might share his feelings, after all. 

“No,” Yuri blurted, “I mean — yes, but it’s not _just_ about that.” He took a breath to center himself and started again, locking eyes with Viktor.

“When I asked you out back then, I didn’t have a clue what I was saying,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was for a fourteen-year-old kid to ask out a man in his twenties and expect to be taken seriously.” He noticed Viktor’s eyes widen a fraction at that. “I thought my crush was such a big deal at the time, but now I know I was just… being a fanboy.”

He sighed through his nose and turned to Yuuri.

“I had the same kind of crush on you too,” he continued. “I was going to ask you out at the Sochi Grand Prix Final, but — well, we all know how that turned out.” Heat rushed up his cheeks as he finally gave Yuuri the explanation he’d owed him for years. “I knew you could skate better than you did, and I wanted to make sure you’d give me a real challenge on the ice. I just… suck at motivational speeches.”

Yuuri squeezed his hand, forgiveness bleeding through the press of his palm. Yuri squeezed back, then laced his fingers through both Viktor’s and Yuuri’s, bracing himself for the most important thing he needed to say.

“M-my crushes never went away,” Yuri confessed. “But they’re nothing like they were back then. They don’t even compare. The way I feel now is — it’s so much more.” He let out a shaky sigh. “So I wanted to ask you both… if you’d go on a date with me?” 

He barely had a second to glance at them uncertainly before he was pressed flush between them, and Viktor’s mouth was on his in a searing kiss.

Yuri’s hands scrabbled for purchase in any part of their clothing he could reach — Yuuri’s scarf, Viktor’s jacket — as he melted under the sensation. Viktor kissed him like he’d never wanted to do anything else, like he never wanted to stop. One of his hands slid up to tangle in Yuri’s hair, and Yuri moaned helplessly into his mouth. He heard an amused hum at that, and realized the sound had come from Yuuri.

He reluctantly tore his lips away from Viktor’s to turn toward Yuuri, who didn’t even give him a second to breathe before cupping his jaw and pulling him in for a kiss of his own. Yuri had to lean down to reach Yuuri’s lips, and a small voice at the back of his mind marveled at how different that was from all of his younger fantasies. Yuuri’s kisses were fierce in their hunger, a sharp contrast to the tender brush of his thumbs over Yuri’s cheeks, leaving him feeling dizzy and weak. 

“Yurio,” Yuuri said when they finally broke apart, “of course we’ll go on a date with you. But…” He glanced over at Viktor, cheeks turning the most adorable shade of red. “There’s something else we want to ask you, too.” 

Viktor took Yuri’s hand again, tangling their fingers together.

“We don’t just want to go on a date with you,” he said. “We want more than that. So…” He lifted Yuri’s hand to his lips. “Will you be our boyfriend?” 

Yuri’s mouth fell open. _Boyfriend. Holy shit._

“We’ve been talking about it for a while,” Yuuri said. “We both care about you so much, and we — we feel the same way you just said you feel about us.” 

“We’ve always cared about you,” Viktor added, “even if the _way_ we care about you has changed as you’ve grown older.” He smiled at Yuri, cheeks tinging pink. “And now we want you to be part of our relationship… if you’ll have us?” 

Yuri threw an arm around each of their shoulders and pulled them close.

“Of course,” he said, and was immediately rewarded with matching sighs of relief against his neck. He pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks. “What kind of stupid question is that?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed this little Russian Sandwich ficlet. I'd love to hear what you thought. :)
> 
> If you liked this fic, I have another longer one for this ship called [The Hope In Your Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145834), so feel free to check that one out as well.
> 
> Merry Christmas, everyone! (And happy birthday Viktor)


End file.
